


and i know it’s late but i couldn’t wait

by Sister



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sister/pseuds/Sister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steph goes to the Wayne Charity Ball. Jason is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i know it’s late but i couldn’t wait

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a ficlet and grew into a teeny oneshot. The summary should really be "Stephanie Brown gets to go to a really fancy party." Title from Neil Diamond.

and i know it’s late but i couldn’t wait

            The Wayne Charity Ball is the highlight of the winter gala season. Bruce managed to secure the Gotham Opera House as a venue and quickly appointed Tim in charge of everything from decorations to invitations. Sometimes Steph thinks Bruce exploits the fact that he finally has an heir with business sense rather more than he should, but Tim isn’t upset, just wearily resigned. Patrol doesn’t stop just because rich people have parties to plan.

            What it means, though, that Tim is handling everything, is that Steph finally gets an invitation. And she understands why she wasn't invited before—there’s no plausible reason for Stephanie Brown, poor college student, to go to the social event of the season—but it never stops her from feeling slighted when she’s out patrolling alone with only the occasional passing wave from Manhunter or the Huntress for company while the rest of the Bats are buttoned into expensive tuxedos and leading flighty socialites around the dance floor. Everyone surnamed Wayne gets to go, and Babs too, as the Commissioner’s daughter. Only Jason is left out, and that only because according to Gotham by daylight, he died in a foreign country something like a decade ago. Jason never cares and shows up anyway in waiter’s garb to mess with Bruce, if the way Dick always tells it is true. But Tim would never leave her out, even if she’ll probably have to pretend to be reporting for the school paper to legitimize her presence.

            After some dithering over finances, Steph decides to go all out. Hell, if she’s going to this thing, she’s _going_ to this thing. She bugs Babs about dresses for days, until finally she walks out of her 1:00 psych class to to find Dinah Lance leaning against the wall outside in knee-high boots and a tailored pea coat. “I hear there’s a ball on,” Dinah says, and her teeth are so white behind her red lips that Steph nearly backs up. She’s never been alone with the Canary before, and the overwhelming sense of how deeply uncool she is in comparison is killing her confidence. “As my friend Zinda would say, let’s get you gussied up.” Steph laughs shakily, but three hours later Dinah is whipping out a very shiny credit card at the register of a deeply expensive store, a place Steph couldn’t even offer to pay for if she wanted to. “Ollie’s money,” Dinah says with a wink. Steph had heard they were back together. Steph is left that night holding a box containing a dress that makes her look fancier and older and better than anything has in a long time, which of course could only be because she’s succumbed to the college dress code of flannel and hoodies at all hours. Well, except for those hours after dark. She wonders if any of her classmates have a section in their wardrobe devoted to kevlar-nomex blend.

            The next day Dinah’s back to take her to a hairdresser. Dinah does the makeup herself, and there’s something dangerous and sexy about having a mouth that can do so much damage in the field held close to Steph’s face in concentration. All told, she’s dropped off at the Gotham Opera House looking and feeling like she’s meant to be there. Her dress is purple, of course—she wouldn't hear of anything less—but Dinah eventually convinced her into a purple so wine dark it’s nearly reddish, paired with a rose lip and heavy lashes, a silvery wrap, and strappy flats. She’s so excited that the December wind barely raises goosebumps.

            The first person she meets, of course, is Jason. He’s decked out in a velvet valet’s uniform and is swinging a set of fancy keys around one finger, but he stops and raises his eyebrows when he sees her. “Well, well. Batgirl all grown up,” he says, which is ridiculous—he’s barely four years older than she is. His eyes skate down her dress, quick like he thinks she won’t notice.

            “What mischief are you up to tonight?” she asks, stepping in close to keep their conversation private. She also smells like rosewater perfume for once rather than sweaty costume, and he should appreciate that.

            Jason grins. “Nothing too terrible, I promise. Princess Timmy would never forgive me if I ruined his royal ball. But golly, nothing worse than a boring party. I’m just here to liven things up.”

            “Why Mister Todd, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you,” Steph says. He knows she won’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have told her. She knows some of the boys have had nasty run ins with him in the past, but Jason’s never even tried to _intimidate_ her, much less hurt her, and here with his gray-blue eyes twinkling and her eyelashes heavy with their extensions, it’s hard to remember to be wary of him.

            “You look nice tonight,” he says, twitching her wrap back over her shoulder where it’s slipped down, somewhere between familiar and flirtatious.

            “I look nice every night,” she says, unable to help how wide she’s smiling. Jason’s about a foot taller than she is and smells like smoke and aftershave.

            “You know, I don’t think I see you often enough to know whether that’s true.”

            “Some of us aren’t invited to train at the Cave,” she says, a little more bitterly than she’d intended.

            “I hear O’s got you set up real nice. Maybe I should drop by.”

            Steph laughs, picturing Wendy and Jason making nice. “Sorry, girls only. But if you wanted to put in facetime at the ball later, I wouldn’t say no to a dance.”

            “A dance? I fairly reek of the hoi polloi. Think of the scandal, Batgirl. Those old society queens will faint.”

            “Rustle up a tuxedo and no one will tell the difference. Besides, I have it on good authority that your waltz is impeccable.”

            “My waltz?” Jason opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I am going to kill Dick Grayson.”

            “Not before I dance with him, please,” Steph says, shifting her weight on her heels. “It’s my first ball and all you boys owe me a dance.”

            “Even Damian?” Jason asks, a dog on a scent.

            “Especially Damian. I will use blackmail if I have to.” Damian is thirteen and has hit enough of a growth spurt to look Steph in the eye. She knows he’s been trained in classical dancing, but getting him to prove it is a different matter.

            “I’ve gotta see that. I’ll help you wrangle him if you need it.” He pulls away as a Rolls Royce slows by the door. “I’d better go before someone actually expects me to park their car.”

            “I’ll leave my dance card open,” she calls after him as he rounds the corner of the Opera House. He lifts a hand to show he’s heard, and then he’s gone.

            The walk-up to the decorated entrance is lined with topiaries strung with Christmas lights. Doormen check her ticket and bow as she passes through the huge glass doors and into the heat of the party.

            _So, Jason Todd._ She hopes he shows. A girl could get to like having a boy like that on her arm.

 


End file.
